A Father's Funeral
by unacceptablefanfic
Summary: This is the gap between A:tFA and ItHoTG. In ItHotG we hear of Lord Alan's death, but we never hear about what happens at the funeral or anything. More Inside. Chapt 2 up.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** This is my interpretation of what happened in between Alanna: The First Adventure and In the Hands of the Goddess. If you remember correctly, in the beginning of In the Hands of the Goddess, we hear of Lord Alan's death, here is what I think happens when she receives the news, prepares to leave, attends the funeral, and everything in between.

**Disclaimer:** All characters and places belong to Tamora Pierce, I swear it; but the plot is mine, ALL MINE!

-mwahahahahahaha- Ummmmmm, Yeah, On to the story…

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Chapter 1: Bad News Arrives

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A young Alanna of Trebond sat in the middle of her favorite class, history and law with Sir Myles of Olau. As Alanna sat there, absorbing the words flowing from her mentor's mouth on the Code of Ten, the set of laws that form the basis of government for most of the Eastern Lands (not a particularly interesting subject, but Sir Myles could make a lecture on the life span of the slug entertaining). All of a sudden, a courier came in the class room and handed a sealed parchment to Sir Myles. 

"Alan?"

"Yes, sir?" replied the curious squire.

"This is for you."

Alanna rose from her seat and walked as if her feet were weighed down by boulders to the front of the class, her heart pounding in her chest, wondering what this was about. Squires never received mail in class, it was always brought to their rooms, before the seventh bell, and only the kind of news that turned ones life upside down was brought during lessons. She took the parchment from Myles and looked at the seal; impressed into the wax was a tower, the Trebond coat of arms. She broke the seal, and read the document silently, hands shaking the paper.

**Dear Lord Thomas of Trebond,**

**We regret to inform you that your father, Lord Alan of Trebond, was taken by the Black God to the Peaceful Realms on May 13, 433 H.E., the funeral services will be held on Monday, May 22, 433 H.E. at Fief Trebond. We will be expecting your arrival as soon as possible.**

She stared at the letter, short, sweet, and to the point, as blunt with words a she has always been. She was never close with her father; he had barely ever acknowledged her or her brother's existence. He had always blamed them for her mother's death, so he had spent the rest of his life as a recluse, locked in his study bent over some ancient text or another, never taking the time to be with his children…

"Alan? Alan?" someone was shaking her out of her shock, it was Myles.

"Alan, what is it?"

"It's my father, he's…" she tried to bring herself to say to say the words, despite the fact that she never liked the man it was still hard to say, "He's dead." Muttered whispers amongst her year mates broke out, breaking the stony silence.

"Oh, Alan, I am so sorry," he wasn't really, he knew how Alan felt towards his father, he knew how much neglect Lord Alan had shown his children, the reasoning he assumed for the letter's being addressed to his brother Thom, who was in the City of the Gods training to be a sorcerer, the entire court thought that Lord Alan had always been a waste of skin and blood. Myles had enjoyed Alan's company over the last few years, they had played chess together, investigated ruins, Alan had helped him back to his room when he had been too drunk to see straight, let alone walk, and in return he had given Alan fatherly advice when he needed it. He supposed that he was the closest to a father Alan had ever gotten during his fifteen years of life. He grinned inwardly; he was rather proud of that fact, Alan would be a fine knight some day, and the two had become quite close. Alan was a son to him, the one he never had, and probably never would have, unless…

"When is the funeral?" inquired Myles, bringing himself out of his train of thought, he would continue on that idea another time.

"The twenty-second." murmured Alanna, still recovering from the shock.

"Will you need to leave class early? I can inform the rest of your instructors if you want me to."

Alanna crumbled the paper into a tight ball, "No sir, I'm fine, I would like to continue the rest of the day if that's alright." She threw the ball into the nearest waste basket and sat down at her desk.

Myles had expected this reaction. "If you insist, but you will have to see duke Gareth at the end of the day to inform him that you will be leaving for the funeral services."

"Yes, Sir Myles." was the whispered reply.

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Author's Note: Hey everyone, I am going to ask you to just call me Bookworm. I hope you all enjoyed reading my first chapter, as much as I did writing it. Just to let you know, its not a one-shot and I have the next few cheaters locked and loaded. All reviews are encouraged, as well as constructive criticism. So, look at the little bluish colored button on the lower left hand corner of the page…See it? Good, now -brings out HypnoCoin 3000- you will now press the review button, when I snap my fingers, you will review, review, revieeeeeew. -snaps fingers- 

I had to lighten the mood somehow. :)


	2. Packing, Plotting, and Pitying

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Except my zombie army of Llamas and Ducks, they're mine. And the plot.

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Chapter Two: Packing, Plotting, and Pitying

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Alanna walked into her room, she had just come from telling Duke Gareth about her plans for the following week. She sat down on the edge of her bed, and stared at her surroundings: her desk, her night table, her dresser, the storage closet in which she kept her weapons, and the door that led to the room of Prince Jonathan of Conté, her knight master and one of the few people who knew of her true sex. The events of earlier that day were playing in her head, over and over again, never stopping. Her "father" was dead. She hated to use that word on that stranger locked in the study at Trebond. That man was not her father, fathers were caring, fathers paid attention to their children, fathers did not blame the deaths of there wives on their defenseless newborns, fathers did not treat their children as if they were a pimple with the "if I ignore it maybe it will go away" attitude, and fathers took the time to know their children.

She had often wondered over the last four years, what the look on his face would have been when—if—she had got her shield and the entire found out her true identity. Now she would never know, and neither would he. She stood up and began to pack her saddle bags; she would be leaving in the morning.

She was folding a black tunic when she stopped half way, frowning. The letter had said that the funeral was going to be at Trebond, her home; she would be seeing everyone she had left behind four years ago. They were all under the impression that "Lady Alanna" had gone to the convent, to learn how to be a proper young lady; they did not expect a "Lord Alan", a squire at the palace to show up. They thought her brother Thom was the squire, not her. She had to think of a way to fix this; she and Thom could not switch places as easily as they could four years ago. After a few minutes of racking her brain, a thought occurred to her. That evening, she would visit Mistress Eleni Cooper, the mother of her friend George Cooper, King of the Rouge; like Jon she was one of the elite few who knew of Alanna's secret. She would explain the situation, and ask Mistress Cooper if she could go into the market places of Corus and buy a long red wig (to cover her copper her locks, which were cropped just below her ears) as well as a couple of dresses, she would provide the money and early tomorrow morning she would pick the items up. She could not do it herself; some people would find it a bit odd to see a teenage boy purchasing dresses and a wig.

She continued to pack in dead silence, suddenly a loud knock at the door accompanied by a deep voice saying, "This is your overlord squire!", broke her out of her stupor. This was her and Jon's secret code to let her know that he had people with him; she opened the door to her friends. Jon had Gareth, "Gary" of Naxen and Raoul of Goldenlake at his side. They all looked depressed and somber. _Do they honestly think that I am that heartbroken over this?_ she wondered. They all know how much I hated that man. _Hate is an ugly word_, she told herself, _but how else do you describe someone who hated you and treated you like dirt_?

"Hello, what brings guys here?" She asked, being her normal self.

Gary answered, "We just heard the news Alan, and we just wanted to tell you how sorry we were and if there is…"

"Enough." interrupted Alanna as she put her hand up, "I don't need you feeling sorry over me, especially under the given circumstances. You all know Father was not exactly my role model. So drop the mourning act now, and let us move on with our lives, shall we."

It was Jon's turn now. "I must say Alan, you are acting extremely rational, were it my father…"

"But there's the difference right there Jon," Alanna interrupted once more, her temper flaring, "Were it _your_ father, but we are not talking about _your_ father Jon, we are talking about mine! Your father loves you Jon, cares about you, and treats you the way you ought to be treated, crown prince or no. My father treated my brother and me like a disease, and wouldn't come near us if he could help it. My father was an awful reclusive man, and frankly doesn't deserve my time, need I say more?" She waited to hear a rebuttal, it never came.

"Now, how about we go to the Dancing Dove, and pay George a little visit." While she was out, she would make some excuse to slip away for a couple of minutes and see Mistress Cooper. Her friends followed her out of the room, when she suddenly turned on them, "Not a word of this to George, you hear me?" she was pointing an accusing finger at them, her unnerving violet eyes locking onto each of their faces. "Mithros knows I don't need _him_ feeling sorry for me too." She walked down the hall, her friends staring at her in concern, a bit worried by their small friend's display of anger. Despite his usual temper, that show he had just put on was troubling to them.

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Hope you all are enjoying the story so far, please leave a review. It is very much appreciated. Don't make me get my zombie army of Llamas and Ducks! They will stand over your shoulder singing the Llama Song until you go so crazy, you'll have to review. He He.

Okay I would like to take this time to thank all my reviewers, all three of ya.

**Missus Kelain-**Thanks! Appreciate that. Glad to know that the typos aren't that noticeable.

**WeepingWillowleaf-**Thank you for the compliment, I live to serve. –bows- just kidding.  I am thankful for the review though.

**Matilda Suzanne-**Thank you for the review, and in terms of the drama: this chapter has a bit more drama in it. I would like you to think on this a little bit though; do you honestly think that Alanna would break down and cry in the middle of class? I personally think that that would not happen so, I saved the emotional break down for this chapter. Oh, and I noticed you took it upon yourself to start your own fic with the same idea. Nice to know that I inspired you. I noticed that your first chapter is so far not very similar to mine, try to keep it that way please?


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